


Thicker Than Water

by Thia (Jennaria)



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Gratuitous Misuse of Mythology, first season spoilers only, playing fast and loose with history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennaria/pseuds/Thia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenny's on the edge of this particular possibly-supernatural murder investigation.  She's perfectly happy there.  Gives her time to finish her Christmas shopping.  Until she's not at the edge any more, and the only thing to save her might be a sisterly bond with Abbie that she doesn't believe exists any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flourish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flourish/gifts).



> This takes place approximately in the middle of the first season, between 10 ("The Golem") and 11 ("The Vessel"). No further spoilers needed.

Jenny's never been to Abbie's apartment. She's not even sure her sister rents an apartment, instead of a house or a condo or who knows what. Abbie used to say she'd buy a house when she could, but Abbie was also on her way out of Sleepy Hollow, down to Quantico, back when Corbin died and Ichabod Crane dropped into their lives and everything changed again. Which is a long way of saying: if Jenny's looking for her sister (which she is), first place to check is the Archive Room, and second is Corbin's old cabin.

She finds Abbie up at the cabin this time, out on the porch and arguing with Crane. "--an ordinary homicide," Abbie is saying as Jenny walks up, shuffling through the leaves (no snow, not yet, not this year). "It's not like Captain Irving can put me on Apocalypse detail. I do get regular cases."

"If there _is_ such a thing as regular, or ordinary, in these times," Crane says.

Abbie rolls her eyes. "White male teenager, down near the river, dead because someone gutted him. He had a record - theft, assault, small fry stuff. And we have witnesses that say he was arguing with a couple people. We don't get a lot of murders here, but I'm pretty sure this is as close to regular and ordinary as you're going to get. He got into an argument, tempers ran high - we see it every December, just not usually with a knife involved."

"When did you become such a Grinch?" Jenny asks. 

"When did you get all Christmas spirit?" Abbie retorts, but there's no bite to it. It's almost a real question. She comes down and awkwardly hugs Jenny, and adds, "If you're looking for me, I can't stay. As you probably just heard --"

"--murder down by the river, actually doing your job, yes I was listening," Jenny says. "I did come for you, but I'll take Crane instead. Unless you've both already finished your Christmas shopping."

Crane, who'd opened his mouth, probably to protest something about how the murder was supernatural after all, stops short and blinks those unfairly long eyelashes at Jenny. "I beg your pardon?"

"Christmas shopping," Jenny repeats. "C'mon, they have to have had that back in your day, right?"

"Well, yes, we did exchange presents with those close to us - our families, most often." Crane's expression freezes up for a second at the mention of his family, but it's just a moment's hesitation, and then he's going on: "I had not given the question much thought, under the current circumstances. In any case, the Lieutenant --"

"Is busy with her case," Abbie says firmly. "Go on, go shopping with Jenny. You can keep her from buying out the store."

"...what store?" Crane says, but it's too late. Jenny's got his arm and is tugging him back towards her car. 

*

It's not that she trusts Crane _more_ than her sister. It's that Crane, for all his weirdness, sticks to his damn story, and to hell with anyone who says he's lying. Even if it would make life _easier_. 

...Abbie's apologized. More than once, even. Jenny even believes she means it. But they ain't never getting back that kind of belief in each other that you don't gotta think about, it's just there.

So yeah, she's just as happy to take Crane out Christmas shopping instead of Abbie. Jenny loves the Christmas season, and Abbie (apparently) doesn't, so there's that. Besides, Crane in a mall is fucking _gold_.

"I beg your pardon, madame - I beg - I - no, madame, I only intended to look at this, ah, 'door-buster.' You may, of course - well. Never mind."

And maybe just a _little_ mean of her. 

"Why would a lingerie tailor's advertise in this manner?"

"It's not a tailor's," Jenny says, hiding a grin.

"Then why is it --" Crane flails his hands, and tries to find somewhere to look that isn't the really big Victoria's Secret storefront, right next to the mall directory they were actually looking for. Finally he gives up on finding his question, at least for now, and settles for, "I beg your pardon, Miss Jenny, I should not be asking such things."

"I don't mind answering," Jenny assures Crane. "We're just more relaxed about that kind of thing. I'm kind of surprised you haven't talked to Abbie about it." She's surprised Abbie and Crane haven't gotten naked together, actually. Yeah, Crane's got a wife who's sorta-kinda still around. On the other hand, if Jenny had a guy who looked at her the way Crane looks at Abbie, she wouldn't give a fuck about 'sorta-kinda'.

Crane opens his mouth, shuts it again, and squeezes his eyes shut. "I shan't ask," he says.

They find the actual store Jenny's looking for on the directory - the far side of the mall, of _course_ \- and head that direction. Jenny glances back at the pictures of white chicks wearing lace and fake wings and nothing else, and asks as casually as she can, "So what sort of presents _did_ you buy for Christmas, back in the day?"

"Books," Crane says promptly. "I believe I recall my father giving me a pocket-knife, one year."

Jenny waits, but he doesn't add anything else, not even 'socks' or 'a new coat' or any of the kind of stuff Momma used to save up and give her and Abbie on Christmas. "No toys?" she says finally, as they pass Toys 'R' Us

"Not that I recall," Crane says, frowning at the store-front (which at least isn't advertising any plastic swords or guns this year). "Christmas was a holy day. We celebrated in church, singing hymns and hoping that the sermon would be slightly shorter than usual. Perhaps we would have a better mid-day meal than usual, to break the Advent fast."

"Why would you fast during Advent?"

"Why would you buy trinkets for people whose company you do not even enjoy?" Crane retorts.

Jenny's turn to look away. "Custom, yeah," she says.

"Tradition," Crane says, but gentler. "And traditions have power. Even new ones." He takes a deep breath and lets it out. "So for whom are we purchasing trinkets today?"

*

They go to the station instead of straight to the cabin, partially so Jenny can drop off her personal gift to Captain Irving (a nice flask, all classy-looking and shiny), and partially so she can ask when Abbie wants to celebrate Christmas (she'd been planning on The Day Of, but apparently her sister turned into Scrooge over the past two weeks, so she'll try this whole Asking First thing). When they get there, and head for Irving's office, they find Abbie already there, yelling at Irving in that super-polite, 'no sir I'm not yelling I'm just Stating Emphatically' way she learned somewhere. Jenny's pretty sure Irving waves them in just to get Abbie to stop.

"Tell me you have proof that Mr. Beinhaur died in an ordinary street-fight," Irving says, soon as they step in the door.

Crane looks at Abbie, who looks away with a grimace. To Crane's credit, though, he doesn't say anything about _told you so_. Instead, he says, "I'm afraid I can offer no such reassurance, sir. Miss Jenny and I had thought to tend to our Christmas shopping whilst the Lieutenant pursued her case."

Irving sighs. "Right. Maybe you can get her to stop pursuing it right into a tangled mess I _don't_ need, especially not this time of year. So unless you brought me a bottle of something nice and strong --"

"Sorta," Jenny says, because really, she's not gonna get a better opening. "Merry Christmas, Captain." 

He opens it immediately, and laughs, a stifled thing but still a laugh. "Thanks," he says. "Now take your sister and talk some sense into her, if you can."

Abbie's still fuming, so Jenny lets her take the lead, and isn't surprised when she leads the way down to the archives. Jenny perches on a table, and Crane sits down, and they both watch Abbie throw down a folder and pace around for a few minutes before Jenny finally says, "So spill."

"Spill. Right." Abbie comes back to where Jenny and Crane are, pulls up her own chair and sits on it backwards. "The guy by the waterfront? He wasn't the first death."

"So it _is_ supernatural?" Crane says, lighting up like it's the best Christmas present ever.

"Or a serial killer," Jenny has to point out.

"Yes!" Abbie says, pointing at her sister. "Thank you! Two people, both dead the same way within a week of each other, it's too much for coincidence."

"Are the two dead connected in any way?"

"No, which is why Irving was being stubborn." Abbie makes a face again, and blows the hair out of her eyes. "The first dead person was a fashion model by the name of Christiana Kessler."

"A German name," Crane notes. "Hessian?"

"Maybe." Abbie shrugs. "No way to be sure."

"She was," Jenny says. The other two blink at her, and it's her turn to shrug, pretending it's not a big deal. "I met her once - they were doing a photo shoot at the asylum. Blonde bitch, all skin and bones, right? She knew what we'd seen - her brother had seen the case files, I guess -- and she threw it in my face."

"Huh," Abbie says, and picks up the folder again.

Jenny waits for an explanation. When Abbie just keeps reading whatever's in the folder, Jenny spreads her hands. "Huh, what?"

"Hans Kessler was the one arrested for Christiana's murder," Abbie says, not looking up from the papers in front of her. "I'd bet you he's the brother in question. He's a former Sleepy Hollow officer, now working security for Christiana. He claimed that the killer was someone else, a woman, but when asked for a description, he clammed up."

"Ah," Crane says expressively.

"Shut up," Abbie says, but she's smiling that little smile at Crane like she's forgotten Jenny's even in the room.

*

Archive room research doesn't get them anywhere: they don't even know what they're looking for, and there's a fuckton of demons who like to kill by gutting people. Even taking Hans Kessler's description of 'a woman' as true, that doesn't narrow it down at all: between female-bodied demons, demons that can change their shape, and oh yeah, any local witches in the area, their list only grows.

Abbie and Crane try to talk to Hans Kessler. They won't talk about it when they get back. Jenny buys Irving a drink next time she sees him at the bar, and he says Kessler laughed in their faces and refused to talk to them. 

They check up on the Beinhaur death. Apparently his cousin was there with him: the reporting officer thought that the fight that led to Beinhaur's death was over her. Maybe they were right, maybe not. What's certain is that the 911 call about Beinhaur was from the cousin - and the cousin's vanished from the immediate area of Sleepy Hollow, person of interest in a murder investigation or not. Can't ask _her_ any questions right now.

Christmas...it's not like Christmas goes _away_. Jenny sneaks up to the cabin and low-key decorates it, with pine boughs, and tinsel, and bright multi-color lights just to make Crane blink and her sister laugh for a change. But they don't talk about plans for the day, or what presents they've gotten, or anything. There's a murderer to catch, whether it's supernatural or not. Jenny isn't sure whether it's a good sign or not that the mysterious deaths are the only current sign of the coming apocalypse.

Then, with a little over a week to go until the big day, there's a third death. 

Jenny's in the car with Abbie and Crane when they get the call. Abbie thanks dispatch, then turns the car toward the German area of town. "I'll drop you off on the way," she says over her shoulder.

"You might need back-up," Jenny says.

Abbie takes a breath like she's going to argue. Then she blows it out, and nods. "Just...keep back, okay?"

"No shit," Jenny says, but quietly enough that Abbie can probably pretend she didn't hear her.

They arrive at a cookie-cutter house, same pale blue color as half the other houses here. The only thing that makes it noticeable are all the police cars pulled up around it. Jenny gets out of the car and waves hi to the cops standing by the front door. One of 'em waves back, the other rolls his eyes. They ignore her as Abbie and Crane go into the house. 

Jenny ambles past the house into the back yard. The curtain of next door twitches, and Jenny makes a bet with herself about how long it'll take before someone calls in a _suspicious person_ at this address. Nice big back yard, though, with a big oak tree in the middle, gaunt and empty of leaves so it's super easy to spot the little wooden loft with a roof, perched on bare branches, and a rope ladder leading down from the loft...and the flash of eyes. There's someone on the loft. Someone peering out at Jenny.

Jenny stops, back far enough that she can see them and they can see her. Not a demon, she realizes, soon as she gets a better look. She knows what they look like: there's always a tell-tale, even the ones wearing human shape. Something about the eyes. But no, it's a human kid, skin darker than Jenny's, hair pulled back from their face. 

"Hey there," Jenny says, after giving the kid a minute to look at her.

"Hi," the kid says. After another second, "Are you with the police?"

"Fuck no," Jenny says.

Flash of a grin before the kid ducks their head to hide it. 

"Can I come up?" Jenny asks. She can't see the twitching curtains, but the quicker she can get the hell out of sight - or at close as she can get without going inside - the happier she'll be.

Pause, then the kid moves back. "Sure," they say.

Jenny climbs the rope ladder. The kid watches her every step, shuffling away from her warily as she climbs into the loft tree-house thing. It's really well built, as near as she can tell - not like she's an expert on tree houses. All sanded and stained, rounded edges, little railing around the edge to go with the roof. A single pillow. Two books.

(The longer she examines the tree house, the more the kid relaxes, watching her like she expects _Jenny_ to turn out to be a demon. Jenny pretends not to be eyeing her back. The girl's in her early teens maybe, wearing jeans and an eye-hurtingly bright pink sweatshirt under a jean jacket that doesn't look warm enough for the December chill. At any loud noises, she jumps and looks around like she expects Moloch himself. What the hell happened at this house?)

"Nice tree house," Jenny says.

"David built it," the kid says immediately.

"Who's David?"

"David Grell. He's --" The kid waves one hand toward the house, and Jenny guesses at the rest. The kid just confirms it when she says, "He's my foster. So was Mrs. Grell."

Was - huh. So Mrs. Grell must be the dead person that Abbie's here to investigate. "So what's _your_ name?" Jenny says.

The kid pauses for a second, then says, carefully, "Carrie."

"Carrie," Jenny says, to confirm she heard it right. "I'm Jenny." She doesn't say anything else for a bit, going back to looking around the tree house. There's still a few fallen leaves around the edges, but mostly it's all swept and clean. Few more pillows, maybe some blankets, and this would be the kind of place she and Abbie would've killed for back when _they_ were kids.

"Do you -" Carrie hesitates for a second, then blurts out, "Are the cops okay?"

"Some," Jenny says.

"Do you think -" Carrie looks down into the yard, then over toward the house. "If I said I saw something - would they listen?"

"Depends on what you saw," Jenny says. "The detective inside is my sister, so --"

She means to finish that sentence with something like _so she'll listen to you even if I have to hit her upside the head_ , but Carrie doesn't let her. "Then _you_ could tell her!"

Jenny's pretty sure that she's _supposed_ to say _no, you gotta tell the cops_. But she hasn't forgotten thirteen fucking years in and out of an asylum for 'saying she saw something,' so instead she sits up and leans a little forward and says, "What did you see?"

"A woman," Carrie says, voice dropping to a whisper. "We were in the weaving room, me and Mrs. Grell, and this woman was just...there."

"What did the woman look like?"

Carrie thinks about that. "Old," she says finally. "All wrinkles. Big nose. Dark eyes, only not like yours, like totally black. And she kept _smiling_."

Jenny waits, but Carrie doesn't go on. Finally Jenny prompts her, "What did she do?"

"She said - she said we wasn't supposed to be weaving at night." 

Jenny's eyebrows go up, because the call came in an hour ago and it's definitely daylight out, when did this _happen_ , but she doesn't interrupt, and Carrie doesn't seem to even notice.

"She said we wasn't supposed to be doing that, and Mrs. Grell said I'd weave if she told me to weave and no interfering busybody was gonna stop us. Only the old lady came right up and practically stuck her nose in the weaving, so's I stopped. Mrs. Grell grabbed my shoulder, real hard, and told the woman to go away, how did she get in here."

Carrie stops. Takes a deep breath. 

"The old lady, she said -" Carrie's voice changes like she's straight-up quoting. "She said, _Odile Grell, you are weaving at night when you should keep it to the day. You have fasted when you should be feasting, and feasted when you should be fasting. Will any speak for you, even your own kin?_ And she looked at me."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"She ain't no kin to me," Carrie says, hot and fast. "Mrs. Grell ain't my momma. My momma's getting her head on straight, and she's gonna come back for me, she promised. It's just been a while." 

Jenny has to look down at her hands and remember how to breathe for a second. A small breeze rattles the branches around them, and whispers chill against Jenny's bare fingers and exposed face. They're both quiet. Finally Carrie continues.

"I didn't say it, though. I didn't say nothing. And the old woman, she smiled even wider, and --" Carrie breaks off, shivering.

There's silence again, this time stretching on what seems like a long time. A dog barks, a few doors down. The branches shiver in another breeze. Jenny can hear voices, muffled and distant. She waits. Carrie will talk when she feels like it.

"She cut her open," Carrie says finally, voice back down to a whisper. "Like with a knife, only I didn't see a knife. And just _left_ her there, bleeding. I thought I was next, only the women patted my head, and said I was a good girl, and then she was gone."

"Like vanished?"

"Yeah. I dunno where she went. Mrs. Grell always locked the door when we was going in there, only the door was unlocked when I tried it. So I went upstairs to my room, and I took off all my clothes and put 'em in a trash bag and hid it in my closet, and I went to bed and pretended I was asleep."

Jenny blinks, and skews around to stare at Carrie. "Wait - do they even know that you know she's dead?"

Carrie nods. "David came and told me this morning, before he called the cops. So what should I do?"

"You don't say anything." Sleepy Hollow doesn't need another smart black girl who saw more than she should and didn't know when to shut up about it. "You put some bleach in that bag with your clothes - it might wreck your clothes, but it'll also wreck any blood stains." They'd blame Carrie, if she said anything. They might even arrest her on suspicion - Abbie wasn't all-powerful, and cops were stupid assholes as a group. "If anyone starts asking questions too much, you point 'em to me."

"To you? Why?"

"Because they already think I'm crazy," Jenny says. "So if I tell 'em that an old woman appeared in your house and killed Mrs. Grell - it ain't like I've got anything much to lose."

Carrie nods again. Jenny hears what sounds like her sister's voice, so she stands up and moves toward the ladder. She's on the first step down when Carrie says, like she doesn't think Jenny will hear her, "The thing was - she was early."

Jenny stops short. "Who was early?"

" _Her_ ," Carrie says, like it should be obvious, and really it kind of is - she's not talking about her late foster mother. "I didn't recognize her until I thought about it - Mrs. Grell told me about her to scare me into being good. I mean, maybe it's _not_ her after all, because she's supposed to come Christmas Day, and go away on Epiphany, and Christmas is next week."

"Who?" Jenny repeats, because that sounds like...not exactly a demon, but not _not_ a demon either.

Carrie looks over her shoulder, then crawls over and says in Jenny's ear, "Frau Perchta."

Jenny doesn't repeat it, just nods and climbs back down the ladder. When she gets to the front yard, her sister and Crane _are_ there, talking with some of the additional cops who've showed up. One of them glances her way, then looks away, flushing. Jenny figures he's the one who got that call about the suspicious figure, and swallows a laugh.

She looks off down the street as she's doing that, and sees a little crowd has gathered, December cold or not. Even here, people want to gawk at the dead. Several are glaring at Abbie and Crane specifically - Hessian descendants, Jenny guesses. But one isn't looking at them. She's looking at Jenny, with dark eyes, completely black, over a large nose and a smiling mouth.

The figure vanishes between one blink and the next. Jenny realizes she's clenched her hands into fists, and forces them to relax. She knows how this works, dammit. She knows the demon's name, and that attracted its attention. She'll dig around in the archives, find out its weakness, and hand it off to Abbie all wrapped up with a bow. Maybe then Miss Scrooge will believe in Christmas.

It's not a very good joke, even in her head. It only gets worse as the prickling feeling of being watched gets steadily worse, riding in the car with Abbie and Crane back to the station. _They're_ in a good mood: apparently David Grell is a sympathetic Hessian, which isn't something Jenny thought existed. 

"He _recognized_ us," Crane says, as if repeating something. "He greeted us _as_ the Witnesses."

"Without trying to shoot you immediately after?" Jenny asks, only half joking. Way too many of the people who know what's going on seem to think that Crane and her sister should just die and get it over with.

"No," Abbie says. "Which doesn't mean he's not our murderer." That's addressed mostly to Crane.

Crane waves it off. "According to Officer Dunwoody, his alibi is easy to verify. More to the point, he too had seen a woman lurking about nearby. We shall return to the Archives and begin our search anew."

This should be Jenny's opening to tell Abbie what Carrie told her. But she doesn't. Part of it is paranoia - if Abbie's still second-guessing David Grell, she's gonna look even closer at Carrie, and the kid doesn't deserve that kind of hassle. Part of it's pride - she's gonna solve it before her detective sister. And yeah, a stupid, petty little part of it is payback.

*

Abbie and Crane report up to Irving first thing, leaving Jenny alone to hit the books. Actually having a name is surprisingly little help: none of the writers seem to have heard of an index, and they all just wrote down monsters and demons willy-nilly as they came across them. Jenny's worked her way through one book and is half-way through another, starting to wonder if she should just hit up Google and risk her sister remembering to check the search history, when they show up again.

Abbie pauses next to the table Jenny's staked out. "Any luck?"

"Nothing so far," Jenny admits. "Even trying to narrow it down to something maybe Christmas-focused…"

"Huh," Abbie says. "Should've thought of that."

"You're not the one with experience hunting demons," Jenny says. It comes out gentler than she expected.

"No, but I've worked in law enforcement, and I take the Christmas shift pretty much every year. Trust me, I've seen plenty of Christmas monsters - they just usually don't have horns or funny eyes."

"Or green fur?"

Abbie gives the joke the half-assed smile it deserves. "Nah. Strictly human."

Crane looks up from the book he nabbed. "Excuse me, lieutenant, but did I understand you that you work _every_ Christmas? I had thought that celebration was mandatory."

"Nope," Abbie says. She picks up the book Jenny already looked through, flips through it, too quickly to actually be looking - just to keep her hands busy, maybe. "At first it was because it was easier than going home to an empty place, or feeling like a pity invite at someone else's Christmas. Then...I don't know. Here was this time of year that claimed to be about the best in humanity, and instead you get people trampling each other to get the latest toy." She shrugs, not looking up at Jenny or Crane. "I'd given up believing in everything else. What was one more thing?"

There's nothing Jenny can say to that, and Crane keeps his mouth shut. The silence is broken by a knock at the door - Irving. "I hate to interrupt you so quickly, but I'd like a Christmas present of completed paperwork."

"We haven't finished the case yet, sir --"

"You haven't yet proven that the _three_ cases are interlinked," Irving interrupts. "And in any case, I was referring to _previous_ paperwork, lieutenant. Crane can only help you so much before more people than me ask questions."

"Dammit," Abbie mutters, and puts down the book she was pretending to look through. Crane starts to stand up, then subsides under Irving's stern glare and a shake of Abbie's head as she says, "No, you stay here and help research. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Once Irving and Abbie leave, Jenny tries to concentrate on the book in front of her. There's an itch on the back of her neck, and she knows that if she looked at a window, or the door, she'd see that old woman peering back at her. She needs to find out more than Perchta's name, dammit. Right now, she doesn't even know for sure what the hell lightening rod she's got that attracted her. If it's more than knowing the name, she could be facing serious trouble.

"Ah!" Crane exclaims suddenly, making Jenny jump. "Perhaps - ah. No. We're looking for a woman."

Jenny slams her book closed anyway and walks over to peer over Crane's shoulder. "Could still be a lead."

"Perhaps," Crane says, and points to the elaborate drawing on the page. Standard horned demon, far as Jenny can see, except it's all dark fur and wearing red and gold in some sort of European ethnic costume. German or Austrian, she assumes, since she recognizes the name written next to the drawing: KRAMPUS. Christmas demon, according to the text. Punished the bad kids while Father Christmas rewarded the good.

She skims down the page, looking for the name Perchta or for a drawing of the old woman. Crane turns the page at her nod, and she keeps looking. He doesn't turn at her second nod, though, and she looks up to find him studying her with a puzzled crease on his forehead. 

"Crane?"

"You're not merely looking in general," he says. "You're looking for something specific. Even more specific than the lieutenant and I knew to seek. I had hardly finished the first page before you were done with the second. What are you looking for?"

 _Shit._ She knows better than to underestimate Ichabod Crane, and here she got caught doing it. "I'm looking for Frau Perchta," Jenny says quietly.

"Perchta," Crane repeats, still sounding puzzled. He flips through the book, first forwards, then backwards.

"Perchta," Jenny repeats. 

Crane stops turning pages, and looks up at her again. "I shall not ask how you know this --"

"Yeah, thanks," Jenny says, because there's no way Crane could end that sentence that wouldn't be awkward, or painful, or just not something she wants to hear.

Crane keeps going anyway. "--only that if it is something with which I can aid you, I would proffer that assistance."

"Information first," Jenny says firmly. She can see the name PERCHTA on the page in front of Crane.

Frau Perchta (according to the book) was not, technically, a demon, except in the sense that the Catholic Church back in the Middle Ages used to lump all the old gods and goddesses and powerful spirits into the category of 'demon'. Perchta used to rule the Twelve Days of Christmas, between December 25th and January 6th, which meant Carrie had been right about her being 'early.' She'd come into homes to check on young women, especially. If they'd been good - doing all their weaving, eating properly, and respecting their families - then she would leave them a silver coin. If not, then she'd slit open their bellies and stuff them with straw.

Jenny stares at that last detail for a long time before looking up at Crane incredulously. "Straw?"

He grimaces. "According to the lieutenant and the captain, in cases of a serial killer, some details must be kept back from the public consciousness so that we may verify a true confession from a false."

"Or verifying that we've found our killer another way," Jenny says. _Straw,_ Jesus Christ. Carrie didn't mention that, but then again, she didn't mention even checking to make sure her foster mother was dead before she ran upstairs. She might not have known.

"True," Crane agrees. "Unfortunately, there does not appear to be any mention of how to defeat the lady, nor how to track her between times."

Despite herself, despite the part where she _knows_ better, Jenny glances over at the door. There's a flash of a smile at her, and Frau Perchta vanishes again. "Yeah," Jenny says quietly. "I don't know about the first part, but the second isn't a problem."

*

Abbie doesn't yell.

That's the part that surprises Jenny. She'd expected a screaming argument. Instead, Abbie listens to Jenny's story of what Carrie told her, and bites her lips, and nods occasionally as she writes down what Jenny's telling her. Crane's discreetly left them alone in the Archive Room. Jenny isn't sure if she's glad or furious about it.

When Jenny finishes, she hesitates for a second, then says, "Abbs - are you going to get in trouble, with the paperwork?" She gestures towards Abbie's notes.

Abbie huffs something that's sorta a laugh. "This whole case is screwed up with the paperwork," she says. "Officially, the three cases aren't connected. Unofficially, there's the straw stuffed inside the dead people. But our explanation for everything is _another_ supernatural creature, who we can't even _find_."

Jenny realizes she left out the most important part. "Look, Abbie --"

Between one blink and the next, she's _there_ , standing between Jenny and Abbie, facing Jenny. "You're running late, my dear," Frau Perchta says. She has a creaky voice, like she's not used to talking.

Abbie's grabbed her gun, and Jenny automatically ducks to grab the knife she always keeps in a sheath on her leg. But Jenny doesn't draw it, not yet. She stays crouched down. "Late for what?" she says. The handle of the knife is reassuringly solid in her hand.

"The little girl told you all she knew, half a day ago, and yet only now do you share that with the authorities," Frau Perchta says. That damn smile doesn't waver, and she's still ignoring Abbie behind her. 

"You are _not_ accusing my sister of keeping secrets," Abbie says. "Ma'am, if you would please turn around --"

"Jennifer Mills," Fraud Perchta says, like she doesn't even hear Abbie. "You have kept your tongue when you should have spoken, and spoken when you should have been silent. You have fasted when you should be feasting, and feasted when you should be fasting. Will any speak for you, even your own kin?"

For a hot second, it's like a hit right in her gut, and Jenny can't breathe, can't hear, can't anything. She remembers. She doesn't want to remember. But then her hearing fades in like an old radio, and Abbie's talking, fast and angry. "--like to see _you_ remember to eat when you can't taste anything, or care about anything because the drugs are too strong, or even be sure the food's real. And when it comes to picking her time, I'll trust Jenny over any stupid-ass Christmas spirit no matter _what_ time of year it is. I failed _her_ once - more than once - and she's _still_ come back and saved my ass more times than I can count. So how about you leave her, and me, and this whole _town_ , alone and stop killing people, hmm?"

Frau Perchta finally turns around and looks at Abbie, like she hasn't really seen her before. Jenny feels kinda the same way. This isn't the unthinking trust of childhood. This is a soldier talking about a fellow soldier. Abbie might be a Witness where Jenny isn't, but that doesn't mean Jenny's expendable. 

For the first time in years, Jenny might really believe that.

Perchta tilts her head and looks back and forth between Abbie and Jenny. Finally she says, "Indeed, I must go. I had not thought any remembered how to speak for their kin, much less that the wicked might repent. Good Yuletide to you and yours." And she vanishes.

Jenny lets go of her useless knife. She's shaking - her, who prides herself on nerves of fucking steel. Abbie's shaking too, which makes her feel better. She isn't sure which of them reaches out for the other, just that next thing she knows, they're hugging, fierce and unashamed, like two kids after a nightmare.

The door swings open, and Crane pokes his head in. He's got an old-fashioned rifle in his hands. Of course he does. "Is she, ah, entirely gone?"

"Sounded like," Abbie says. She doesn't let go of Jenny.

"Oh, good," Crane says, and lays the rifle down carefully on the table by the door.

"Didn't have a clean shot?" Jenny says, muffled a bit because she's not letting go of Abbie either, but she's not giving up a chance to poke at Crane a bit.

"No," Crane says. "In this instance….I do not believe it was my fight."

*

Abbie _does_ have an apartment, come to find out - pretty close to the cabin, as apartments go. She's still working Christmas Day, because she can't find anybody willing to cover this late, but her shift doesn't start until 3. Jenny shows up at the apartment early Christmas morning, with Crane hard on her heels, and they all exchange presents and drink spiked egg-nog and eat ham, "because I wasn't doing venison - sorry, Crane."

Abbie asks, quietly, as Crane is serving up the ham and potatoes and green bean casserole, "I know this probably isn't how you celebrated --"

"I'm not in the asylum," Jenny says, gently poking her sister's arm. "I'm not some guilty secret. I used to like Christmas because they'd give us good food, and sometimes Corbin would spring me just to walk around for a while, instead of because of demons or witches. I'm not _dead_. I even got people."

"Damn straight," Abbie says, and hugs her.

When they're all done, and Jenny is just starting to wonder if she should figure out a discreet way to leave, Crane stands up and straightens his coat. "Well! You have graciously shared _your_ celebration of Christ's birth with me, so I would like to share _my_ celebration with you. According to my research, the Church of All Saints has a service beginning in just under half an hour, and I would invite you both to join me."

"A church service?" Jenny protests. For all she's been fighting demons half her life, she doesn't usually go to church, _any_ church.

Abbie's already nodding. "Okay. Good point." She stands up, grabs her coat, glances back at her sister. "You coming?"

"...yeah." She might not be a 'good girl' the way Carrie was. But hey, _her_ kin was willing to speak for her. Besides, it might be nice to remember there's more to the Bible than the Book of Revelations. "Yeah," Jenny says again. "Let me grab my coat."

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> There really is a Frau Perchta in Austrian mythology, who really is supposed to slit bad people open (with her fingernails) and stuff them with straw if they haven't either done all their spinning or observed her feast day properly. According to one source I found, the way to keep her away was to have a full belly: I had to change that, as that would have been a really boring climax to my story. ("Quick, Jenny, here's a donut!") Likewise, I didn't go into great depth to find out what Ichabod's Christmases would have been like back in the day, but if The Wikipedia Version of history is good enough for canon, it's good enough for my story.
> 
> Thank you so much, dear recipient - Jenny and Abbie's relationship is one of the (many) things I love in Sleepy Hollow canon, so I was delighted to get the chance to write about them. I hope you enjoy the result!


End file.
